


Dream Logic

by BlackVelvet42



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:05:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19769767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/pseuds/BlackVelvet42
Summary: "After all, with art, one cannot always define the result in advance. Sometimes, the piece defines itself."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Bizarra for organizing this lovely fic fest! May there be many more in the future. 
> 
> And thank you Caladenia, once again, for the thorough beta and the gentle persistence to chop my ridiculously long sentences and to breathe some class into this piece of smut.
> 
> This story was inspired by these three gorgeous photos.

* * *

“Too much erotica can get you into trouble, son,” his father had once told him when he was nothing but a boy, too young and arrogant to really listen.

To be exact, the old man had used the word ‘porn’, but it had sounded just as crude then as it did now, decades later recalling that incident he would have rather forgotten. 

“I’m not saying no, Chakotay, for every man and woman should embrace the pleasures this world has to offer. I’m only saying there are boundaries even an eagle should know not to cross.”

To this day, Chakotay had no idea how the eagle got dragged into his father’s half-serious lecture he was forced to listen as a teenager, but ears burning while his magazines and PADDs with adult content were confiscated for an undefined length of time, it didn’t occur to him to question his father’s teachings.

Funny how, sooner or later, one comes to understand the wisdom passed on by the previous generation. Especially amusing – or not – it is if one has reached the respectable age of forty-three, the Starfleet rank of Commander, and the position of first officer until those teachings finally come and bite your behind. Because once the hormone-fraught years of adolescence turn into a healthy, mature, controlled sex life, one doesn’t come to think that the slide back into chaos is only one careless step away. 

The whole thing started by accident, really.

One evening after yet another double-shift to catch up with all the repairs the ship required, Chakotay had retreated to the quiet of his quarters, wondering where to seek the calm needed to ensure a peaceful sleep.

The sand painting he had been working on for weeks laid abandoned on the side table, the half-finished sunset mocking the time and energy he had invested in perfecting it. He knew his frustration was pointless. Whether he achieved the shapes and tones he had planned wasn’t important, only the journey into self-expression was.

Taking a deep breath and emptying his mind from the stress of the day, he took the cup of chestnut colored sand and let his thoughts float free, trusting his hands to do the task on their own accord. After all, with art, one cannot always define the result in advance. Sometimes, the piece defines itself.

He was rather pleased with the ease of his handiwork, his ability to let go of control and simply enjoy the process. But when he stepped back to evaluate his creation, he froze in his tracks.

The gentle slopes near his village in Dorvan had acquired the resemblance of feminine curves, the sun descending behind the mountains appearing as a lush breast.

His first instinct was to wipe the questionable image away, afraid somebody might walk in and see it, the memory of his teenage years echoing as a distant warning not to attract that kind of attention. Next second, he came to his senses. It was just a picture. The day had been long, and he was tired. Surely the likeness was all in his head. In the morning he would regret destroying his hard work.

But after a good night’s sleep, the sexual overtones of the image were even more obvious. Not only could he see the seductive curves in the landscape, but the waterfall and the river colored auburn in the light of the setting sun now visibly reminded him of a woman’s long hair.

Even if the picture was beautiful and well made, having such a piece in his quarters was somehow unsettling, and he deemed it easiest to discard the erotic work and start something else entirely. Shaking his head, wondering the unpredictable nature of the unconscious, he wiped the table clean.

If only erasing the image from his mind had been as easy.

In the middle of the night, he woke up sweaty and breathless and painfully aroused, restless visions of a woman whirling in his head. A woman who had risen from his painting, dusted the sand off her bare skin and droplets of water from her auburn hair, and walked toward him with a crooked smile and a hand on hip, whispering soft as the wind for him to look, and look hard, because this was all he would ever get from her.

Not that it was a revelation, of course. His beautiful, willful captain had caught his attention from the moment they’d met, and sitting next to her every day hadn’t made her any less captivating. Quite the contrary. The more he got to know her, listen to her voice, see her at her best and her worst, the deeper she seemed to twine into his very being.

Some days he was sure she returned those feelings. The flirty banter and tension appeared to grow into an entity on its own, too powerful to ignore, and judging by the looks Paris gave them from the conn, he couldn’t completely be imagining the chemistry. But at the end of the day, she was always only his captain, and the bed waiting for him remained cold and empty.

He thought he had made peace with the uncertainty, accepted that at least on board _Voyager_ , they would be nothing more than the command team of a crew far from home. But apparently, his unconscious mind still harbored other options.

Because instead of staying as an isolated incident, the sensual dream repeated itself, with variations.

Next, he found her on the tropical beach of an alien planet. He couldn’t see her face in the blinding sun, but he knew it was her, long tresses caressing her bare buttocks, hips swaying as she walked into the glimmering ocean. The first touch of the water turned her into a mermaid and just before she dived into the waves, she called him to follow. Even though nothing more happened than a slow descent into the darkest depths of the sea, their intertwined bodies dissolving into the salty waters, the dream was clearly a metaphor for making love and a warning as to how dangerous that path could be. 

Not soon after, another dream painted them running through a thick forest, warrior and beast. He on four paws, his animal senses filled with the smells and sounds of the night. She dressed in a few pieces of leather hiding none of her strong, lean body. On the surface, they only ran, searching for a route to safety for their people, but the underlying tone and meaning was far more primal. The familiar tattoo on her forehead signaled an eternal bond, their joint struggle a common goal. And at the center was their heavy breathing and a tension growing thicker and stronger until unleashed by her fingers sinking into his fur and a long howl erupting from his throat.

He couldn’t decide which was more disturbing.

The fact that he was having erotic dreams of his commanding officer in the first place and had to look her in the eyes the next day, or that those dreams were much more than a release of unfulfilled sexual need.

In the most curious manner, his nights were quickly growing into entire sessions of creativity and introspection, distorted and hidden behind the twisted logic and odd symbolism of dreams, spiced with lust and longing.

Night after night, his unconscious mulled over their unique situation. Their responsibilities and lifelong commitment to their crew, reflected against their personal desires. How much they were expected to sacrifice, how much happiness and selfish indulgences they were allowed to have. How much _she_ would allow herself.

Simultaneously, that same deceitful unconscious tempted him with visions of what could be. How their mutual attraction could grow and what shape their relationship could take in an existence ruled by duties and danger. Presenting him with alternative universes where he would know the sweetness of her touch, her closeness, and warmth.

At first, the open sensuality and brutal honesty of his visions impaled him with shame, as if he was intentionally using her image to his own satisfaction. Which, in a way, he was, but not by a conscious choice. Yet the harder he tried to compensate for his nightly transgressions by performing his absolute best as her first officer during the days, the more intense – and more outrageous – his dreams became. And it seemed he was caught in a spiral where one fed the other until he was drowning in guilt for something he was incapable of stopping.

“There are things you can change and things you cannot. The wisdom, my son, is to know the difference.”

That piece of advice had actually sounded logical from the first time his father had offered it. No eagles either to distract the message. Nevertheless, heeding that advice was much more complicated than simply understanding the wisdom embedded in the words, but for all his life, he had tried. And what better chance to learn than the present.

What he was experiencing, were just dreams. An expression of his hopes and desires, but also a sign that his mind was working to help him to cope with difficult circumstances. Eventually, those dreams would pass. He would adjust to this new life on _Voyager_ and regain his inner peace, and his mind would find something else to ponder. Till then, he might as well give the process the time and space it needed to run its course.

So he went to sleep forgiving himself in advance, and in the morning, he breathed out his lively unconscious creations, changed the sweaty sheets and showered, reasoning that this too, had been a phase.

As bizarre, illogical, or plain violent as some visions were, he could easily forget them once realizing the essence and meaning behind them. Wearing masks while undressing her in public represented the importance of keeping his affection a secret; infiltrating every cavity in her body with his thick tentacles symbolized his need to know her thoroughly; whipping her bound and gagged form to bleeding welts reflected his frustration for their impossible situation; devouring her whole and taking pleasure in feeling her slide down his throat to his belly signified his need to keep her safe forever.

Yes, he could find sense in every dream, analyze them and then forget. The hardest ones to let go were far simpler. And far more dangerous.

Like when he envisioned her sitting in her command chair, wearing a white lace nightie, a glass of champagne in one hand, and on her other hand, a bright new wedding band. All she did was sit and smile, content in letting everyone see her as the woman she was beneath her rank, the woman married to her first officer. He kneeled before her and dove between her thighs to slowly suck her to climax, then spread her legs wide to push inside her and have her there with everyone witnessing. 

His arousal woke him up just in time so he could help himself to a most satisfying orgasm. Crying out her name in the pillows as his seed spilled warm on his stomach, he knew this was the dream he had been searching, his deepest wish he most wanted to become real. That she would one day say yes to him and bind her life together with his, fully and completely. She would continue as captain and he would serve under her, and they would be happy forever, without the need to hide from anyone ever again.

After that, his nights became calmer, the worst of his heat burned and settled. Like things do when the crest is reached, the biggest fears faced, and harsh realities admitted. What he most wanted, would, most probably, never come true.

Coming to the bridge and taking his place next to her still felt awkward after a particularly exotic dream, but then again, as he one day realized, how would he know if she wasn’t having similar dreams of him? Maybe they were both merely surviving, longing for each other and waiting for the day they were free to act on their desires. The sparkle in her eyes and her hand lingering on his chest certainly hinted she had feelings for him too, not that he had any right to ask. Whatever pleasures she entertained herself with in the privacy of her quarters was none of his business.

And for a while, everything was fine. He had found a balance, a way to exist and function by her side. But on some level, he knew that balance was fragile, requiring only the slightest push to tip the scale.

So maybe he shouldn’t have been so shocked when that day eventually arrived.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Another planet, another first contact, another species with resources _Voyager_ desperately needed. This time, however, they were lucky to meet a welcoming, benevolent people who were genuinely happy to trade. Their social structure was strictly matriarchal, perhaps a little stricter than an average Federation-born officer was comfortable with, but nothing the crew couldn’t endure within the realm of negotiation for supplies.

The species was also telepathic and very curious about the males assigned to central positions of the ship. On their planet, men and women were segregated at workplaces, with the men kept away from any duty relating to decision-making. Hearing about the arrangements on _Voyager_ sparked their interest, but also a thinly veiled disapproval.

The three elder ladies sent to discuss the trade details requested the negotiations take place without the presence of men. Responding to Captain Janeway’s cautious inquiry, they described the male mind as unreliable, unfocused, and lacking the necessary objectivity and sensitivity to handle the demands of diplomacy. In their experience, the conversations were more efficient in a female group.

He could see Kathryn biting back the urge to comment on the flaws in that reasoning. Not that the Federation was entirely free of such biases, but at least they had developed an understanding of how utilizing the full range of individual characteristics benefitted the whole society. Smirking at Kathryn’s self-restraint, Chakotay remained on the bridge and watched the selected few proceed to the conference room.

Some hours later, the group re-entered the bridge chattering and smiling like people who had formed a bond of trust and goodwill. Obviously the discussions had been both pleasant and successful.

“May I introduce you to some of my crew, Ambassadors?” the captain offered, visibly relieved. “My chief of security, Lieutenant Tuvok. My helmsman, Lieutenant Paris…”

One by one, they gave a formal nod, while the guests examined each bridge officer with a certain suspicion, as if all men were born guilty unless proven otherwise.

“…and this is my first officer, Commander Chakotay.”

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder, the familiar gesture repeated so many times he thought nothing of the touch nor the ripple of warmth in his chest that always followed.

Yet their guests’ eyes immediately narrowed.

Although he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, the three pairs of eyes boring into him brought his pulse up, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was about to be fed to the inquisition.

“Your first officer, you say? The second in command of your ship?” The eldest woman questioned moving closer and measuring him from head to toe. “And you trust this man, Captain?”

“Fully and completely, Ambassador,” Kathryn replied without delay and, seemingly unable to resist the opportunity for cultural exchange, she went on. “We don’t separate the women and men in our society. Quite the opposite. We believe working together brings forth our unique, individual strengths and skills, to the benefit of…”

While talking, Kathryn’s fingers brushed his arm again. Even though her intention was merely to express support, another warm wave washed over him, one he was much more aware of because of the sharp stare monitoring his every breath.

“I see. And what about you, Commander? How do you feel about your Captain?”

Not that he ever had the slightest chance. He had been judged and sentenced long before the mental image of Kathryn formed in his mind.

Soft, sweet, and sated in his arms, rosy lips reaching for his. Where the hell did that come from at a moment like this?

He swallowed hard as the dark eyes in front of him widened.

“Is that so, Commander? What else?”

He shifted and glanced around, hoping to come up with an acceptable exit of a scene growing horribly uncomfortable, but the old woman grabbed his hand and pulled his attention back to her. Uninvited, another picture emerged, like recalling one fantasy had evoked another. And then another.

Kathryn waiting for him in his bed wearing a smile and nothing else, crooking her finger in invitation.

Kathryn leaning back on her ready room desk, pulling him on top of her, wrapping her legs around him.

Kathryn pushing him against the wall in the lift, opening his pants, and sinking to her knees.

The woman gasped and shuddered.

“Captain, I…” he tried, but the ambassador was quicker.

“Captain, this man has betrayed your trust in the worst possible manner!”

The look on Kathryn’s face revealed she had no idea what had been exchanged between the two. “Ambassador, please, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation…”

But the woman was on a warpath. Her nails dug deeper into his arm and the intensity of her stare stabbed through to his soul. “Show me everything, Commander.”

Her eyes were hypnotic, her voice a trigger. In a heartbeat, the gates to his unconscious swung wide open, letting out an avalanche of images he had kept carefully suppressed.

Every dream, every fantasy, every waking reverie his mind had ever created of the woman he officially called his captain, poured out of their hiding into the front of his mind, gathering into a collage of erotic images, colored with his vivid imagination, perfected with details of reality.

And the ambassador scrutinized it all, picking each image one by one, evaluating and condemning, then throwing it back to him in disgust.

“This is exactly what happens when men are allowed to work together with women.” Her words oozed contempt, but he could feel her curiosity beneath the judgement. Some pictures held her interest longer.

“What is this obsession with her in leather?” she muttered to herself rather than a question waiting to be answered.

With a hot flush spreading across his face, and yet unable to move or speak, he pressed his eyes tightly shut. This could not be happening.

“That’s enough, Ambassador,” he heard Kathryn interfere, but her voice came as if from behind a fog and the old woman continued to hold him hostage, the link between them unfaltering.

She kept flicking through the catalog of his mind, diving deeper and deeper through every heated fantasy until her face was as pale as her white dress.

“You… You… male!” she finally spat out and stepped back, taking support from her colleagues, trembling with rage and horror.

“My advice to you, Captain Janeway, is to get rid of these men as soon as you can,” she announced after a few steadying breaths, eyes still glued to Chakotay as if he was a vicious, unpredictable creature better kept under constant surveillance. “This one in particular. He is consumed by his degrading fantasies and his urges will ultimately endanger you, your ship, and your mission.”

Wrong move.

He could practically hear the rise in Kathryn’s blood pressure. Regardless of her ability to embrace even the most incomprehensible cultural peculiarities, she wouldn’t tolerate the questioning of her judgement, nor such a blatant attack against any of her crew.

Her tone was sweet as honey, the smile lighting up her face equally insincere.

“I appreciate your concern, Ambassador, but I believe we’ll manage just fine. What you perceive as an insult, a distraction, and a threat to efficiency, we regard as a rich inner life, a source of energy, and a means to balance the discipline our duties require.”

“With all due respect, Captain, you have not seen what I saw in this man’s mind. The ropes, the collars, the ball gags…”

Kathryn motioned her quiet, the steel in her voice now without a shred of diplomacy.

“We also believe in something called privacy. A person’s right to their own thoughts and beliefs. I have no interest in hearing what images you stole from the Commander’s mind without his consent. Had you scanned my mind too, I have no doubt you would have discovered things far more intriguing than a ball gag.”

One nod from her, and Tuvok and Ayala came to stand by her side.

“Thank you for the successful trade negotiation, ladies. Mr. Tuvok here is more than capable of finalizing our trade and Mr. Ayala will escort you to the transporter room when you are ready. Now if you’ll excuse us, the Commander and I have some pressing command issues to discuss.”

Without waiting for a reply, Kathryn headed for her ready room and he followed, relieved to be offered a somewhat honorable escape. 

Perhaps it was the dizziness after the mind control, but the sway of her hips appeared particularly appealing and the grin she gifted him as the doors had closed behind them especially… naughty.

“Leather, Chakotay? I don’t mean to pry, but I do hope we could talk about this further. Over a glass of wine, tonight, my quarters?”

The next morning, stretching away the sleep to begin a new day, he couldn't stop smiling at how beautifully their late-night conversation had sneaked into his dream.

He’d been flying high above all else in the pitch-black night, his wings strong and his mind sharp. Apart, but near, flew another eagle, equally powerful, equally fierce. Mid-flight, their paths aligned, then merged, and despite the vision becoming blurry at that point, colored with more emotion than precision, it had painted the future with hope and excitement, and a certainty that their journey through the endless skies had just taken a significant turn for the better.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3




End file.
